Farewell Marko
by Anime Borat
Summary: Everyone passes away. Jack Ryan visits a man, a good man, who had changed history in his lifetime.


**Farewell, Marko**

A/N: My tribute to Tom Clancy. I don't have any of the later novels so I get a few details wrong, please tell me. It occurred to me about the fate of Ramius in the Ryanverse, especially about not being able to go home after Union fell. Forgive me for this fic was made at spur of the moment. Read and enjoy.

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 _Vilnius, Lithuania  
9:30 pm, local time_

The leaves have been swept by a chilly wind blowing in from the Baltic Sea, a leaden sky hanging high over the city whose rich history was written in its architecture such as the charming old wooden buildings of the Hanseatic Leauge sitting alongside stately Renaissance-style cathedrals of the Commonwealth era, 18th century Romanesque, some of the rare interwar Art Deco buildings and the spartan and shoddy Soviet buildings of the Cold War, having a place with modern contemporary officer and residence buildings.

However, in a lonely place outside the city lay a manorial estate, which began life as holding of a member of the local nobility, constantly changing hands throughout the march of history, be it Lithuanian, Polish, German, Swede, or Russian, such was a chaotic mix. The land was wrested from its aristocratic owner as land reforms in the interwar era broke it up for local peasants, leaving only a small portion for its owner, which contained a stately mansion. The Second World War had it further reduced and after it, it was made a dacha for the Communist Party of Lithuania, an adjunct party formed in 1918, made rulers of the Baltic nation after the war, saving it from the fate of neglect and vandalism that ravaged much of the architectural heritage of the Baltic region. When the Iron Curtain fell, the manor lay abandoned, decrepit, but was eventually bought at cheap price by a private foundation that restored the mansion and the present grounds back to its present glory.

It was how Jack Ryan Sr. secured a place for an old friend, who wanted to go home.

The president of the United States took a detour from his private visit to heads of government in the Northern Europe, meeting with leaders from Norway, Germany, Poland, Denmark, Sweden, Finland, Russia, and the Baltic States over the future of Baltic region. He got here early, the summit was not expected to be due in until the next day and everyone was simply getting ready for the talks. He took an unmarked SUV, one of new vehicles that appeared in Vilnius's streets nowadays, originally custom-made by the CIA for an operation that was called off. It carried armor protection and compact communications. As it was on-site in the Baltic, it enabled him to discreetly leave the hotel which was the formal lodging of the delegations.

"Jack, we haven't had any proper preparations, we'll need to be extra careful." It was Andrea Price, the head of his Secret Service detail escorting him for the whole thing. "I've got a few guys sent over..

He nodded. "Good job, Andrea. Will be in and out in before dawn." Looking around, the streets of Vilnius were so different from that of the Soviet era. No one would even know it existed save for a buildings and signs bearing the appropriate style of the era. In all appearances, it would have been another modern European metropolis.

 _Marko, if you can really see this now?_ he thought. He wondered what the old Baltic fox would say about his country now, which he never set foot even with the end of Communism as he was associated with the regime by many.

Captain First Rank Marko Ramius (ret.) of the former Soviet Navy's Red Banner Northern Fleet, captain of the, the _Krasny Oktabyr_ , Red October, the Vilnius Schoolmaster, the father of Russian Submarine Fleet, the Soviet Rickover. He had been referred to as a traitor and defector, largely thanks to leaks from the CIA during his earlier administration.

He had provided assistance to the foundation, created by a group of Lithuanian expatriates deeply interested in restoring their country's historical and cultural heritage. It was a very tricky but thoroughly legal exercise. And that was followed by flying the man home, after a formal ceremony stateside. It was exceedingly private. Marko was not survived by any kin, having forswore any relationship in honor of his late wife, Natalia Bogdanova. The officers of the Red October had learned of this and with help of the CIA, have arranged for his return to his native land. This particular foundation had admired Ramius after looking up his life.

All of what he did was completely and painstakingly legal, having done so much to secure this place, Ramius could not be buried in any cemetery in Lithuania, certainly not the Antakalnis and Petrašiūnai Cemeteries due to the complicated nature of Ramius's life and the current political climate. Tension was present between native Lithuanians and the Russian minority still living, followed by an upsurge in nationalism across the borders. This has lead to intense debate of people in the shared history of both countries, a particular source of contention was much of the twentieth century, especially the Soviet era.

Marko Ramius was a controversial figure in both countries. In Lithuania, he was considered by many a hero for masterminding the greatest con in history, the defection of all his senior officers and theft of the Soviet Navy's most advance submarine the _Red October_ , containing world's first stealth propulsion system, the caterpillar drive that enabled her to silently cruise beneath waves. Those in his native land regarded him less than a hero, mainly due to the actions of his father, a high-ranking Lithuanian Communist Party official responsible for purging his own countrymen when the Soviets took over both in 1940 and 1944. In Russia, opinion was even more divisive, mainly because of his innovative influence in Russian submarine doctrine and of course, the defection and theft.

The past has a powerful hold on people at this side of the world. Well, the past always does for people around the world, just manifested in different ways. It would be much better of people can find some way to reconcile with it and move on, but not everyone does. There's always the tricky question of how to perceive it.

The electronic camera spotted the SUV and scanned its electronic sticker. This prompted the guard to open the gate quickly as the black luxury four-wheel drive strode in, giving little time for potential tails to race after them. The gate closed behind them as soon as they got in. As soon as the vehicle stopped, he got out and was escorted by his Secret Service detail, consisting of Andrea, an old vet, and a kid who barely made the domestic section when he was reassigned to Ryan's detail, and the only other VIP passenger, chief of staff Arnold Van Dam. The car was being parked in the garage attended by the earlier-deployed contingent.

Ryan took a look at the place, autumn leaves have been swept away and it struck

They were lead inside by a female attendant, who brought him to a small reception. And very warm one. The atmosphere was both quiet yet amiable. Perhaps it was due to having a short ceremony taking place stateside beforehand. Here, the nine men who joined Ramius in his defection, some with their families, a few of the foundation members. They were here to celebrate how he lived, and honor his passing.

He can see Melekhin chatting with a foundation member, formerly the senior engineer in charge of the sub's reactor, now a chair of nuclear engineering in Princeton University. Borodin, the executive officer of _Red October_ , remained a naval consultant but his scope expanded into other specialties such as strategic theory. It made him fill proud of these men, men who kept the American Dream alive by choosing, at great risk to their lives, something radically different.

"Ryan!" joyously cried Bugayev, the sonar officer of the _Red October_ as he grasped Jack with his arms in a bear hug. In spite of his age. he was surprisingly strong though fortunately not too much as to squeeze him. "I'm so glad you make it."

He pat his back in response. "It's the least I could do for you guys. I don't wanna miss this after all the hardwork we put in."

"And you must be Mr. Van Dam." The laughter in his eyes never faded.

"Call me Arnold." The chief of staff shook Bugayev's hand.

"Pleasure to meeting you, Arnold. Come, you too, the night's still young." He lead them inside the mansion it was a quiet reception as he met and chatted with the men, some who brought their new found families with them, and several of the foundation members.

"You must be Doctor Ryan," said Richard Kamarov, who was with his father, Gregoriy Kamarov, former navigation officer of the Red October. They shook hands. Kamarov had married an emigre woman named Tanya Aleninova. Their son was currently studying marine biology at Duke University.

"Nice to meet you, too, Richard. How's Duke?"

The young man was at a loss of words as he tried to answer.

"Easy, Richard," said Kamarov, patting his shoulder. "He may be president of the one of the most powerful countries in the world but he is good man. Just relax."

Richard eased himself as he replied, "Well, sir. I aced my midterms last month. Right now, I'm preparing to go to Florida Institute of Technology as part of a project involving Caribbean marine life."

"That's great. What got you into it?"

"My dad. He told about how much he loved the sea. I never realized what he really was until that leak back in the day." It really stunned young David about his father, he never knew much about him before then. He sighed as he mustered up his resolve. "Grandpa Marko was a great man, Ryan. Thanks for getting him and dad out."

Ryan was touched the simple statement. "You're welcome, Richard. Go luck at Florida." They shook hands again.

Kamarov patted his son warmly as the young man's eyes glistened. "Thanks, dad."

The boy, Ryan thought, was symbol of the new lives they lead in America. It occurred to him that while Ramius may enjoy some degree of respect and admiration in his homeland, his fellow officers were still scorned as traitors even in modern Russia for their part in during that December, when they set off to join the New World. It was a cruel fact of life, Ryan thought deeply. They did it with the most advanced killing machine, a Typhoon-class ballistic missile submarine carrying twenty-six SS-N-20 Seahawk missiles (now known as R-39 Rif), each a payload of MIRVs, each of the reentry vehicles carrying a yield of eight-hundred kilotons, all to be used against more than two hundred targets in the East Coast.

King Ozymandias's engine, ready to set the world afire. In the hands of the Kremlin, it would have given anyone in the Kremlin the means to decapitate the United States before a war was even fought. Such power to strike first at will should never be in anyone's hands. With that, the ten men did a service to humanity beyond any measure. The circumstances meant that they will never set foot on their own country, never to experience anything like this for their late captain.

"Jack." Arnie touched his arm. "The service was about to start." This got Jack off his reverie and entered the room where the coffin was contained, holding probably an unknown hero to the world. The simple furnishings of the room added solemnity and dignity to the funeral. The priest, a Roman Catholic, entered the room and a few greetings were exchanged before the service began. Jack Ryan, Irish-American and Catholic, knew every bit of the ceremony's proceedings by heart but it still managed to move him profoundly as it did before. The ceremony he witnessed was made all the more poignant by the circumstances that surrounded it. Here, nine brother officers from a country that officially renounced religion, singing hymns and prayers and the priest officiating in Lithuanian, translated into Russian by an interpreter, had a unique character he had not seen in any other similar ceremony.

The eulogy began with each man giving their own words of praise for the deceased, of how he was brother, father, and uncle to them ever since. The speeches, carried out in their native tongue and translated into English, had an eloquence about them. Something perhaps from their naval days. The service was over and everyone chatted. Ryan slowly approached the casket and looked through the glass to see Ramius lying inside. The man had a tranquil look, as though as he was sleeping. He remembered that he had passed away in his sleep. Jack often had informal contact with him whenever they need to discuss something related to naval affairs or simply wanted to chat a few things. Ramius had became the de-facto patriarch to his fellow officers and their families. Whenever they got together, he had a joy in him that seldom shone, he was told, back in Soviet Russia. They added the last time he had that was when he was with Natalia or some of the men in their quiet moments.

"Hey, pal," Ryan began. "I got here as best as I could. When was the last time we talked... two years?" He recalled about how Ramius wanted to see his country before the coming summer. The CIA wanted him to think over carefully while they make arrangements. Even Mary Pat Foley told him the news in person. But all that went to naught when he did not wake from his sleep during one May morning. "I supposed the country's changed a lot since you left. When the Wall came down... everyone had a hard time but they made it through. I'm not sure about everyone sees you though. Some people think you're a hero, others think you're a villain. But you know what I think?

"You're a good man. You did something most people would consider wrong because you knew in your heart what it really was, and had the courage and integrity to do it. Even after it, you still remained that man. No one should think less of you for it... And good God, you've earned your rest. And by the way, I just learned who Sasha was. He was Vasili Mikhailovich Kravchuk, of St. Peterburg, formerly Leningrad. He's being rehabilitated by Kremlin in recognition for his service in Port Author under Admiral Makarov. You didn't let him down."

"Farewell, Marko." He gave Ramius a salute and slowly returned to the crowd.

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In memory of Thomas Leo Clancy Jr., 1947 – 2013, a good author and an inspiration. _Ad maiorem Dei gloriam_.


End file.
